


hold your fire course

by weatheredlaw



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Family Feels, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: He wants to dream of his mom and his sisters. He’ll even take dreaming of batteries and Freckles, who he needs to find and fix.He’s let go of Church, and now there are other things he wants. Other things he needs.





	hold your fire course

**Author's Note:**

> writing about caboose is my favorite thing to do.

Caboose likes going back to the familiar. Chorus was a place where bad things happened, where people died and _he_ almost died, but — it’s a bit like the worn pages of a book. Softer now, around the edges, and a sight for sore eyes. They’re going back to make sure Wash is okay. Caboose sits in the transport ship and listens to Smith talk about how they figured out where they were and the mysterious ship that left Agent Washington at the hospital.

“It’s so _good_ to see you again,” Smith says. “Sir,” he adds quickly before he goes to check on their ETA with the pilot.

Caboose feels like he should have something to say — doesn’t he always? — but he’s still...what’s the word? How, exactly, is he feeling?

He’d seen Church. He’d heard his voice. He’d gotten to talk to him.

Caboose had told him that everything was okay, and that’s the truth. He was never good at lying.

But he’s still... _sad._ It’s not new to him, it’s a feeling he’s well acquainted with. Caboose just wishes that he could feel something else. It’d be nice if he could just turn that feeling off, for a little while. Not for forever, but he’s happy to see Smith, and he’s happy Wash is okay, and that the world didn’t end.

But he’s sad about Church, and his heart’s a little ache-y still about Loco.

Carolina sits in Smith’s spot and puts a hand on Caboose’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Oh.” He’s surprised to see her. She doesn’t talk to him very much, and Caboose was always...a little jealous, that she got to carry Church in her helmet. But right now, he can see her face, and she can see his. The hand on his shoulder drifts down to his own hand and she grasps it.

“It was good to hear his voice,” she says. “Wasn’t it?”

“...Yeah,” Caboose admits. “It was.”

“You know, he talked a lot about you.”

Caboose looks at her. “He did?”

“Yeah. Usually he was complaining, but that’s what he always did. He’d talk about how you shot him or how annoying you and Tucker were back in Blood Gulch.”

“Tucker _is_ annoying,” Caboose agrees.

Carolina laughs. “He’s okay.” She gives his hand a squeeze. “I think the reason he talked so much about you guys was because he _missed you_ , Caboose. That’s what I think it was.”

And she leans over and kisses his temple. It’s a casual gesture, like maybe she’s done it a hundred times before.

Caboose closes his eyes.

He feels...a little less sad, now. And a little is better than not at all.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they land on Chorus, Tucker is off the ship, Carolina quick to follow. Caboose thinks about going to see Wash with them, but — he’ll have a lot of people who care about him there, and Caboose would rather go alone. So he goes to change out of his armor and shower, because he’s been a lot of places and he can still feel the brine from Temple’s underwater lair all over him.

Showers back at blue base were on a timer — four minutes to get in and get clean. On Chorus, they’re eight minutes, which is like a lifetime, if you think about it. Caboose stands under the lukewarm spray and thinks about batteries and holes that look back in time and the way Tucker sounded _desperate_ when he asked Caboose to pull Church through.

Maybe he should have. Maybe it would push out this exhausting sadness.

The shower shuts off. His eight minutes are up. Caboose steps out and dries off before getting dressed. Their shared living space on Chorus has a kitchen and sitting room in the center, and Caboose can hear Grif and Simmons squabbling as he heads to the fridge.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring any of our shit.”

“Dude, if you keep bugging me about that, I’m gonna burn the shit you have _here."_  Grif comes into the kitchen and nudges Caboose with his elbow. “Hey, man. Hungry?”

“Thirsty.” Caboose pulls out the milk and pours himself a glass.

“Wow, incredible. Even Caboose knows not to drink it from the _jug,_ ” Simmons says. He frowns. “Sorry, Caboose. That was—”

“It’s fine.” Caboose drains his milk, puts the jug back, and leaves them alone.

They have a lot of catching up to do, still. Caboose wonders when they’ll just kiss.

 

* * *

 

He’d hoped Wash’s room would be empty by the time he got to it, but when Caboose gets to the hospital, Tucker is still in his armor, helmet between his feet and staring at the floor. He jolts when Caboose opens the door before relaxing and leaning back in his chair. “Hey, Caboose.”

“Is he okay?”

Tucker nods. “Just out, still.”

“Right.” Caboose sits in the other chair, sliding his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you sitting here. He likes you a whole lot.”

“Yeah.” Tucker runs a hand over his head, closes his eyes. “Why didn’t you pull Church through, Caboose?”

Caboose presses his lips together. He can feel Tucker’s frustration. It falls off of him like magma into the sea, hissing and cooling and building on itself and Caboose isn’t sure what to say to him or what to do about this.

“ _Caboose_ —”

“It was just…” Caboose leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. “It was time to say goodbye, Tucker.”

“We didn’t _get_ to say goodbye.”

“No, yeah, I know.” Caboose takes a deep breath. “I know that.”

“Then _why_ —”

“He had to go, Tucker. I get it now. I’m sorry you’re sad that he’s gone.” Caboose opens his eyes and angles himself toward Tucker. He reaches out to take Tucker’s hand in his own, and Tucker...doesn’t pull away.

“It’s like...like none of it mattered.”

“But it did!” Caboose says. “We—” He laughs. “We helped Epsilon make new memories! And Epsilon was just Church but smaller. And better with computers.”

Tucker finally smiles. “Yeah. I guess.”

Caboose sighs. “Tucker...I _am_ sorry.”

Tucker’s hand grips Caboose’s own tighter, and he’s suddenly pulled into a hug, crushed against Tucker’s armor. Tucker’s other hand cradles the back of Caboose’s head. He’s crying.

“I know you are,” he says. “And I am, too.”

From the bed, Wash makes a harsh, scraping noise and Tucker and Caboose look toward him

Caboose realizes Wash is trying to laugh.

Tucker scowls. “Oh, you _dick."_

Wash grins. He has bandages around his throat and there’s bruising all up his neck and into his cheek, but he looks happy. Caboose and Tucker stand and go to the side of his bed.

“We won I guess?”

“Yes!” Caboose takes a knee and leans on his elbows. “And Tucker was going to kill Temple, because he was mad about you getting shot, but Carolina said not to, so instead he punched him. And then Smith showed up and told us your Duck Tales story.”

Wash blinks, then looks at Tucker. “Proud of you,” he says.

Tucker sniffs. “Yeah, whatever.”

“I’m serious.” He looks between them. “I’m proud of you both.” He reaches up and musses Caboose’s hair. The machine by his bed pumps more pain meds through the IV, and Wash’s eyes go a little glassy. “You are... _so tall_ , Caboose. And so strong and big. Tucker look at him. He’s like. Super big.”

“...Right. Come on, Caboose. Let’s give him time to rest.”

“I’m _so proud_ , Tucker. C’mere! C’mere and let me give you a hug.”

“Later, Wash. We’ll, uh. We’ll hug later.” Tucker laughs and shakes his head as he and Caboose head out, leaving Wash to fall back asleep.

 

* * *

 

Tucker splits off from Caboose to shower and change, so Caboose decides to take a walk. Chorus is looking better all the time. The streets and the buildings that tower up and lean together like trees are the opposite of his home colony back on the moon. He and his family lived in a set of shiny pre-fabs, and Caboose shared his room with three of his sisters. He misses them, suddenly. Usually it’s easy to put them aside — not because he doesn’t _want_ to think about them, but because it’s hard.

He misses his mom.

It strikes him like a bat to the gut, and Caboose has to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to get his bearings. People mill around him, unbothered by his sudden _crisis._ God he misses his mom. He misses her cookies and her forehead kisses and her music and her backrubs. She used to cut his hair for him, and Caboose reaches up now to absently toy with it. She’d kept it short, when he lived at home. It’s a mess, now. Wash cut it, back in the canyon. Here some recruit gave it a chop, so when he wakes up it sticks out at weird angles and never lays right.

His mom would think he’s a mess. He has scars in places he didn’t before. It’s harder to remember things. Her face, sometimes.

Quickly he rattles off the names of his sisters, only stopping when someone looks at him sideways.

Right. He’s out of armor.

Out here, like this? No one knows who he is.

 

* * *

 

Back in their living quarters, Simmons and Grif are watching TV, Simmons’s legs draped over Grif’s lap as they pass a bag of potato chips back and forth. Tucker is in a reclining chair, eyes closed until Caboose shuts the door and he sits up, awake.

“Hey, man. Where’d you go?”

“For a walk.”

“Don’t get cozy, we’re gonna go get dinner. Palomo said they put in a punch of new restaurants downtown. _Noodle bar, bitches._ ”

“Oh.” Caboose blinks. “Oh, okay.”

“You can stay here,” Tucker says. There’s this tone of understanding in his voice that's new, for the two of them. But Caboose appreciates it.

“Yeah. I’d rather do that.” Caboose moves so the three of them can head out and Simmons calls out, _We’ll bring you something back_ as Tucker puts a reassuring hand on Caboose’s shoulder before closing the door behind him.

He probably should have gone, but curling up on the couch and watching TV sounds nice. And it’s still warm, he realizes, and the TV is quiet, like white noise. Caboose closes his eyes, and drifts off.

He wakes and it’s dark out, and someone’s put a blanket over him. He stands and fumbles into the kitchen, opening the fridge and seeing a container of noodles with his name on it. He goes back to the couch and eats them cold, then goes back to sleep.

There is a disconnect, in his dreams. Things he wants to see compared to the things he really does. He wants to see his old house on the moon, he’s always dreaming about Blood Gulch, or those thirty seconds when Felix had a gun pointed at his face.

Caboose knew, instinctively, that he was fine. Still.

_Still._

He wants to dream of his mom and his sisters. He’ll even take dreaming of batteries and Freckles, who he needs to find and fix.

He’s let go of Church, and now there are other things he wants. Other things he needs.

 

* * *

 

“You...want to send a message? To the moon.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa looks at him curiously, getting up from her desk. “Why the moon, Caboose?”

“Hm? Oh! Because that’s where my family lives.”

“Your family—”

Santa’s red form appears by Vanessa’s head. “ _There are several colonies on the Earth’s Moon. My search of available records indicates that Captain Caboose’s family are indeed residents there."_

Vanessa turns to Caboose. “Sort of explains a lot.” She picks up a datapad and scrolls through it. “I’ll have one of the techs sit you up in a conference room. Do you have your family’s contact information?”

“Um—”

“ _I can acquire it."_

“Thank you, Santa.” Vanessa sits back down. Caboose turns to go. “Caboose?”

“Uh, yes? Ma’am?”

She smiles. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It is good to see you, too.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so you just sit here. This is your window, it’ll pick up everything—” The tech points to a large screen. “We’ll start the call, but don’t get too excited. We’re far away and the UNSC just opened up our communication lines a couple days ago. We might have to try again later.”

“Okay.” Caboose watches anxiously as the tech puts in his mother’s contact information. His stomach is turning, his hands are shaking, _he hasn’t heard her voice in so long_ —

“Caboose?”

He looks up, and Carolina is standing in the doorway.

“Caboose, what are you doing?”

“Are you ready to connect?” the tech asks.

Caboose shakes his head. “No, just...just a minute.” He turns in his chair toward Carolina. “I’m...calling my mom.”

Her expression softens. “That’s great, Caboose.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time. I missed her a lot yesterday. I’ve...I’ve been a really bad son.”

Carolina shakes her head. “You’re not a bad son. You just got caught up in some rough stuff.”

“Yeah. We couldn’t make calls in Blood Gulch. Or any of the bases.”

She frowns. “Right. I...forgot about that.”

“So it’s been a long time.” Caboose fiddles the hem of his jeans. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“ _No."_  Carolina pulls up another chair and takes both of Caboose’s hands in her own. “You should call your mom, and you should let her hear your voice. You...never know when she might get the chance to hear it again.”

Caboose understands this logic. Doesn’t mean it makes him feel better, but — he understands. He nods and gives Carolina’s hands a quick squeeze. Before nodding at the technician. “Will you…” He looks back at Carolina. “Will you stay? With me? Just right there. While I call her.”

Carolina nods. “Of course, Caboose.” She pushes her chair away as Caboose takes a breath and looks at the screen.

The call rings, and rings, and rings, and rings.

Carolina says, “Caboose…” and the technician swears, fiddling with something on a datapad until —

“ _Hello?"_

Caboose...stares.

“We’re getting her but she isn’t getting us,” the tech mutters. “Hold on, I’ll try—”

“No!” Caboose leans forward. If they hang up, this could be it. It could be the last time.

He needs to memorize her face. He needs to remember what she looks like and what she sounds like because Carolina is right, every time could be the _last time_ —

“ _I’m not getting you on this end, maybe try calling back?_ ”

“Please don’t hang up,” Caboose says. “Mom, _please_ don’t hang up—”

“ _I’m going to hang up—_ ”

“Mom—”

“Ah ha!” The tech grins. “Got it!”

His mother pulls away from the screen, the expression on her face unreadable. Caboose’s hands are shaking in his lap, everything is going to fall apart at the joints, he —

Carolina reaches over and slides her hand into his.

Caboose swallows. “...Hi, mom.” He puts his other hand to the screen without thinking.

She is everything he remembers.

He hasn’t forgotten her at all.

And she’s _there._

Caboose smiles, feels tears curve down his cheek and pool at the corner of his mouth.

“ _Oh, honey._ ” She puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.  _"Honey, your hair._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ weatheredlaw


End file.
